


The Haven

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Banter, Confrontations, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Kiss, Hotels, Insomnia, Love Confessions, Post-Series, Pre-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Romantic Fluff, Running Away, Secret Admirer, Stargazing, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was what Jack might have called a hotel but what Arcee called a neutral zone, a place where bots of either past faction could go without blasters blazing. If asked, she would admit that it was mildly disconcerting to watch Vehicons roam the halls. Not too long ago, she had been killing mechs like these.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haven

One of the first buildings to be built on the new Cybertron was, oddly enough, called The Haven. It was what Jack might have called a hotel but what Arcee called a neutral zone, a place where bots of either past faction could go without blasters blazing. If asked, she would admit that it was mildly disconcerting to watch Vehicons roam the halls. Not too long ago, she had been killing mechs identical to these. She wondered if behind their masks they had faces, if they were watching her, blaming her for their comrades’ deaths, or if they didn’t have real sparks to care.

Other Cybertronians who were just returning to the planet had arrived here too, taking up something of a more permanent residence until they could restore their homes or whatever they considered their personal haven. She’d seen a Minibot struggling to vent evenly, leaning against the wall and obviously trying to tamp down his anxiety. The femme with him had apparently seen this before, crouching in front of him and murmuring quiet words of comfort, something about a new home that wouldn’t hold such unfortunate memories.

Not everyone—hardly anyone, in fact—had been treated to a luxurious life, even before the war. Arcee shouldn’t have been surprised at the reminder, but she was and she felt sorry for them. She silently wished them good luck.

Oftentimes she didn’t bother recharging when she went to The Haven, but it was the only place intact to put up her feet, so she would simply go there to relax when it was nighttime and she wasn’t given permission to work on any of the current sites.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights. She was sprawled flat out on a recharge slab, since berths hadn’t yet been installed in the rooms, waving her feet back and forth restlessly. Finally she rose, coming out into the hall and heading for the balcony, a touch Bumblebee had suggested for stargazers.

Arcee didn’t usually go to the balcony. The first time she had, she’d only been out for a nanoklik before she rushed back inside. The first thing she’d seen hadn’t been stars; it was the cold reality that, despite all their hard work, the planet before her was still a wasteland. It had reminded her of all the Bots she’d lost, the ones she’d cared for, even loved. When that had happened, she had tried comparing her pain as trivial to that of Optimus or Ratchet. They were older and had lost so many more; surely her sense of loss for Tailgate, for Cliffjumper, didn’t matter nearly as much.

At least, not to them. It mattered to her.

Now her view of the darkness was blocked by a tall, familiar form. He was looking…uncharacteristically introspective. The Wrecker was leaning on the balcony railing, perfectly still, vents cycling almost inaudibly. Occasionally there was a little twitch from the thin winglets on his back but otherwise nothing.

Optics narrowing intently, Arcee glided silently closer, trying to discern what he was looking at or for. Was it the stars or the wasteland? She knew Wheeljack sometimes had trouble looking for the good in the situation, just as she did. Was he looking beyond the death and destruction while he inadvertently blocked her view of it?

“Well, what’d you come here for? To stare at the scenery or at me?”

Arcee miraculously didn’t startle, but her core temperature shot upward and she glared as Wheeljack looked over his shoulder at her. “I wasn’t staring at either.” _Lie_. “I just was waiting until you left so I could have time to myself.” _Lie_. “I could be recharging just fine right now.” _Lie_. “But since you apparently aren’t going to leave, I’ll have to resign myself to my fate.”

So saying, she strode forward with confidence and followed his example, folding her arms when she proved a mere _inch_ too short to lean on the railing. Fortunately Wheeljack made no comment on that, though it did seem like he leaned a bit more comfortably where he was.

“So,” Wheeljack began, “you couldn’t recharge. Nightmares?”

“No,” Arcee answered honestly. “I just couldn’t. Why, did _you_ have nightmares?” She knew he had done some nasty things, but hadn’t they all? His blasé manner could deflect almost anything.

“Nope.” Wheeljack didn’t bother to clarify what he had been doing, but he changed the subject. “I might take the _Jackhammer_ on a trip away for a while. See if I can find anyone else.”

Arcee found herself wary of this idea. Trying to capture his optics, she questioned, “Why? Everyone knows the war is over; they’re all coming to us.”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m not exactly the patient type,” Wheeljack reminded her with a perfect combination of a smirk and a grimace. Tamping down the annoyance that automatically surfaced, Arcee put a hand on his arm, finally managing a turn of his head.

“And what about us? How long are you planning to go away? Bulkhead—”

“He’d understand. He knows that’s who I am, that’s what I do,” Wheeljack cut in, a bit tersely, turning into her hold so he could slide his arm away. “But why do you say ‘us’? What’s it got to do with you?”

“Why did you just tell me if it doesn’t concern me?” Arcee shot back, making him falter slightly. She let him keep his arm out of her reach, folding her own and continuing, “We need every mech on board to rebuild. We need something to make up for this.” She jerked a nod out at the darkness, raising her eyebrows skeptically. “We don’t have time for you to make your little rounds out in space. Those bots who are coming need something to come to and _stay_ for!”

“And what do I have to stay for?” Wheeljack asked bluntly, planting his hands on his hips and leaning down at her, glowering. “The others are fine and all, but I know Bulkhead’s just _praying_ another Wrecker’s gonna come home and I could give him that! And who knows, maybe if I’m not here, I won’t be waiting for you to—”

Arcee took a step back and he abruptly seemed to realize that he’d said too much. He straightened, arms falling loosely to his sides, and he followed her lead, backing up with the expression of an elusive shocker-stag in someone’s headlights.

“Wait for me to _what?_ ” Arcee asked sharply. Wheeljack stayed silent and she regained enough of her composure to move at him again, surprised when he recoiled until he hit the side of the railing with a dull clang. “Wheeljack. What are you waiting for?”

The Wrecker hesitated for a long minute and then two…three…and then his vents hitched softly and he shuffled to meet her where she was. “Good question,” he murmured, placing his hands on her shoulders with astonishing gentleness. “I…guess I probably shouldn’t anymore.”

Was he about to do what she suspected? She should probably pull away, retreat, but this was neutral ground where there shouldn’t be confrontation and—and she was just the right height to reciprocate.


End file.
